Watching
by Kilonji
Summary: Post Grave, Giles thinks about his Scoobies.  All in general, one in particular.


**Disclaimer**: I don't own them. No copyright infringement is intended. If it was, do ya think I'd post it?  
**A/N:** I was wandering the net today and lo and behold! This is my first attempted fanfic, originally posted at Of Demons and Destiny, a Giles shrine under a preferred handle of mine at the time, Morgiana. It's over two years old for the life of me, I can't remember if I actually posted it here. Since the search function seems to be on the fritz right now, I'll assume I didn't and take it down later if I find I have. Although my Buffy obsession days are long over, I'm still kind of fond of the show. Yay me for actually finishing this one since the first fanfic I wrote after this one was several _years _later. In any case, enjoy!

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Little left here but her. The rooms are quiet, Buffy having gathered up Dawn and taken her somewhere, anywhere, that would take her mind off the past few days. I suppose Buffy needed it too. Xander and Anya have likewise made themselves scarce, though I doubt that wherever they are they are together. That leaves only me and the sleeping girl.

Not a girl anymore. I'm sore all over, thanks to her. I have might have a concussion but I did not go to the hospital. It would have taken a lot of explaining how I got back here without a passport. After Anya and I left the Magic box, we made our slow way back to the Summers home, Anya supporting me. She said little, which I'm assuming must have been an amazing feat for her. Buffy and Dawn beat us there. The elder Summers nearly crushed my spine with her embrace, while the younger reached for me, tentative, as if she thought I would disappear or fall to pieces if she touched me. "I'll alright Dawn," I told her. "And I wont be going away for a while, at least."

Between the three of them the girls tended my wounds and then their own. None of us had come out of this unscathed. And we were only the beginning. No one said much of anything until later, a few hours later. I sat at the table, quiet. Dawn had wandered upstairs, we assumed she fell asleep. Anya made coffee and Buffy cooked some eggs. We sat and ate, silent, the numbness of what had happened finally setting in. We'd survived another near-apocalypse. But we were missing people.

It was Anya who finally spoke our minds for us. "Where _are_ they already?"

I'd swear Buffy nearly jumped. She seemed to have a lot on her mind, as I did. I still wonder if we were thinking of the same thing. She gazed at Anya almost blankly. "Xander?" Then a pause. "And Willow."

"Yes. Where _are_ they?"

"Anya you must be patient. They will come when they are ready," I said.

"But it's been _hours_," she said.

"It has. And a lot has happened," I said.

"You don't think--" she stopped, and I felt where her mind went. After all this, I thought, she is still more threatened by Willow as a potential boyfriend thief than Willow as the ultimate evil.

"No, Anya, I think screwing Xander would be the last thing on her mind right now," Buffy said. "That is, if her mind is still all there." Her tone was sharp.

"Oh," Anya said. She was silent for a few moments more and then, "But what do you suppose is on _his_ mind?"

"Anya, just drop it." Buffy's head sank into her hands.

"I was only saying…"

"Anya, will you do me a favor and get me some aspirin?" I asked.

"Oh!" She slid out of her chair and out of the kitchen.

"Thanks, Giles."

"Don't thank me," I said. "I did it just as much for myself."

"I know you did." Buffy wiped her eyes. "You didn't just feel bad about leaving me."

"It was barely an afterthought, really," I said. "I knew it would be rough for you, but I didn't once think of Willow or Xander when I got on that plane. I should have. I was just too angry, and I never said a word to her about that last spell. And then all those weeks without a word from you and little information from Dawn, it never crossed my mind that she would go over the edge. But she was only dancing on the line when she brought you back. By the time I left she was far enough gone… I should have done something."

"But done what?"

"Talked to her without fighting with her. Or at least tried."

"I know what you said to each other that first time you came back." Buffy gazed at her hands.

"Did she tell you?"

"No. I was listening at the door with Spike." She sighed. "I heard it too. And neither of us even thought about what it meant."

"You had other things on your mind, Buffy."

"I did. And so did Spike. But after Tara left…" The tears were coming now. I knew better than to try to comfort her. "After she turned Amy back… And all I could think of was when I could get to Spike again." She sighed. As strong as she was, is, and will always be, it always twinges at me to be reminded that she is, after all, just a girl, and a human one at that.

"You can't blame yourself for this. The fault lies with me and Willow."

"I don't," she murmured. "I just wish… Giles, how did this get so messed up?"

I knew she wasn't just talking about Willow. She was thinking about the trysts with Spike, Xander's cold feet, Dawn's descent into juvenile delinquency… I knew there were no easy answers here. I could only tell her what I knew. People change. People make mistakes. Even people like me. I was about to answer her when the phone rang.

Anya reappeared before either of us could even stand. I suspect she was eavesdropping. "Xander? Where are you? Where is _she_? Oh, okay." She handed the phone to me.

"Are you alright?" I asked.

"Yes, but Willow… she…Giles, I don't know what to do. She stopped crying and fell asleep after a while, but something's not right. She's barely breathing."

"I'll be right there," I said. "Just watch her."

"Okay… just hurry. Giles? Welcome home," he said.

"I missed you too, Xander." I hope he heard me smile into the phone.

Buffy was already up, car keys in hand. "Are you sure you want to come?" I asked.

She did not hesitate. "It's Willow," she said.

By the time we got to Xander's apartment, he was at the main entrance waiting. "I think she's getting worse," he said as he ushered us in. I looked towards the couch and caught my breath. The dark one had gone, leaving in her place that small red girl who looked even smaller than she normally did. Her chest was still; her face was shiny with dried tears. I knew what was coming. Buffy again burst into tears. "Is she going to--" She was crouched beside her; her hands smoothed the auburn hair and stroked the pale, unmoving cheeks.

"No," Xander said. "She can't." I smiled to myself again. Where Buffy would break and Willow would shatter, Alexander was great. Like a rock.

"We can help her," I said, moving in close and gently pulling Buffy away. "Her body is adjusting to the flow of power that has been through it. It will be difficult for a few days, but she will get through it."

Buffy steadied beside me. "Can we take her home?"

Xander looked at her. His face was a pained question that his voice simply could not muster.

"No, she'll stay in my room." Of course there would be no thought of putting her back in her own room, not the one where Tara…

Xander disappeared into his closet and returned with a blanket. After tucking her in, he scooped her up. "Let's go then."

She stirred a little on the way back, her head cradled in Buffy's lap while Xander drove. The magic that lingered in me focused on her fevered mind. No words, just images, of Tara and the one she killed. Warren. That was his name. Both deaths replayed in her mind, meshing together and becoming one. His death had been gruesome and her enjoyment of it was without shame. I shuddered as I understood that even had she not been consumed with dark magic, Willow would still have taken pleasure in that death.

Dawn was waiting for us at the door. "Anya's gone," she said, and then her eyes found Willow. "Is she still—dangerous?"

"Only to herself," I said. Xander carried her up the stairs and gently laid her in Buffy's bed. She stirred again, taking deep breaths as if she were re-adjusting to the concept of breathing. "No," she whispered. Her eyes were still closed.

"Shhh, we're right here," Xander said into her neck.

"Please don't leave me…"

"We're right here Will." Buffy stroked her hair.

"Tara…" And then she was silent. As were the rest of us, stunned. It had been less than a day, with all that had happened, and somehow the roots of the tree we hung from had fallen from our immediate thoughts. Tara. Gone. Just like that. I had forgotten how terribly loved she was, and not just by Willow.

Xander rubbed his eyes. Buffy blinked away tears. "We… we need to make arrangements for her," she said.

"One thing at a time," I said. "For now, you two get some rest. I'll stay here with her." The two of them looked at me with hollowed out eyes, but I was not going to be stopped here. They left, closing the door quietly behind them. I turned back to look at Willow. I sat on the edge of the bed, taking her hand. The same hand that had tried to kill me not twelve hours earlier. The same hand that had ripped the life from at least two other men. The same hand that had held her lover's body while its owner begged for her life. They were small and cold. The fingers curled lightly around mine.

"Oh God Giles…" I looked and her eyes were open. I don't know how long I had sat there, staring. Her eyes were green again now, and begging. I could almost taste the hunger for death in her. What she saw as her punishment. Not for Warren or the other, but for not being the one who died in the first place, for losing control, for saying all the vicious things she had said. Her memory, at least, was in tact.

"Willow… how do you feel?"

"Ashamed." She did not mention her emptiness.

"You are going through withdrawal. This is not going to be easy, but I am here to help you."

She closed her eyes. "I'm so sorry," she whispered. She did not expect forgiveness.

"I know," I said, not letting go of her hand. "I'm sorry too."

"You don't have anything to be sorry for." Her body shook with the tears that were falling again.

"About Tara," I said.

"You told me that," she sobbed.

"And I meant it. It doesn't make it all right. And you cannot bring her back. But I can bring _you_ back, if you want it."

She went still. Her eyes closed again, and her resolve wreaked havoc on my heart.

"I want it," I said. "You've apologized a million times, but you cannot atone unless you continue to live. I want you to give yourself the chance to atone."

"I can't." Her voice failed her.

"You must. It won't be easy. I told you that. But you must. For all of us. Don't let our last memories of you be bad ones, Willow. Don't do that to us." My voice was suddenly stern; I was angry again. "If you ever loved us, don't leave it at this."

She sighed, and I felt the resolve melt away. _There_, I thought again. All the little shifts in her mind finally were still, and the path ahead of her began to clear.

"Rest now," I said. "I won't leave you again."

She nodded, still breathing deeply, and after a while drifted off to sleep. I sat with her for a long time afterward, watching. Like I have always done.

END


End file.
